Late Night Fears
by Kay Willow
Summary: The Hollow preys on Orihime, enjoying her nervousness and her discomfort, but Orihime thinks that maybe -- just maybe -- he isn't all that bad. Follows Late Night Encounters. //Ichigo/Orihime, Hollow/Orihime//


**.late night fears.**

Ichigo cooked and Orihime cleared the table; that was the way it went in the evenings, and had ever since they moved into the same apartment. As much as she wished he'd let her cook for him, Orihime rather liked the routine -- it let her have time to settle her thoughts, doing rhythmic, easy tasks, so she could go to sleep with a clear head -- and because Ichigo would already be in bed when she was done, waiting for her with warm sheets and a welcoming smile that made the rest of the world vanish.

"Your fingers are wrinkled," Ichigo observed, as she slid under the covers, curling around her possessively before she was even settled.

Orihime tucked herself close against him and let out a slow, peaceful breath. "Because I've been washing dishes." She put the gnarled fingertips on his cheek and he grimaced.

"Great," he said dryly. "Like cuddling with someone's grandma."

"If you married someone's grandma, and she was rich, she could be your sugar momma," she suggested, laughing at him. "And then you could keep me on the side, your secret mistress with whom you'd had a clandestine love ever since you were young." Of course he would ache to keep her with him, but he'd need so badly to feed his starving family (and Orihime; he had to cook for her, after all) that he couldn't afford to turn his back on the rich old heiress. Orihime would have to lie about contraceptives and become pregnant so as to trap him, but they would have a happy ending when she revealed her pregnancy dramatically at dinner and his ancient wife had a heart attack right on the spot--

Ichigo snorted and rolled on top of her, heavy as if his weight alone would keep her from considering the issue any further. "Stop thinking about what you're thinking about," he commanded. "Where do you even learn words like 'sugar momma'?"

Going to sleep with that sort of deep contentment made it surreal -- Orihime thought she might never get used to it (never wanted to get used to it; she forgot that sometimes) -- when she woke up in the middle of the night and it was someone else there pressed intimately against her. It was Ichigo's strong arm slung over her waist, Ichigo's nose buried in her hair, Ichigo's breath easy and hot against her scalp, but she knew immediately that it was not her Ichigo.

Orihime licked her lips. She couldn't see him without twisting out of his grasp, but she knew what she'd see: glittering whiteless eyes fixed on her with a raptor's gaze. She just -- didn't like not being able to see him.

"Good evening," she whispered.

He grinned into her hair, tugged her closer against him in an almost-hug. A little too close, a little too _almost_, his thigh curving over hers and his arm sliding up under her breasts. "You're pretty quick," said the Hollow. "For an airhead."

"My friends say I'm a savant," Orihime informed him. Her heart was beating too fast under her ribcage -- she knew he could feel it, maybe sense it like the predator with a rabbit in its claws, but she couldn't help it.

"That means they think you're an idiot," the Hollow pointed out, ducking his head to trace the line of her throat with his teeth, delicate, just the faintest of touches. Not trying to hurt her at all, but reminding her, almost sensually, that he could. "It doesn't bother you?"

Orihime concentrated on breathing, steady and sure, and not on him, or his question, or her answer. "No. They're my friends."

He snorted a little, and she could feel his breath wash over her neck. "So it doesn't matter what they say, as long as they're your friends? But _I'm_ not your friend -- am I?"

He was mocking her. Of course the answer was _no,_ the answer he was expecting, but another answer sprang to mind, and Orihime murmured it, even knowing that it was a stupid thing to say. "You're Ichigo."

His arm tightened around her ribs, forcing the breath out of her, painful. Orihime squeezed her lips shut and closed her eyes to keep from gasping or whimpering. "It's true," the Hollow said, soft and sly. His voice was like poison. "I'm in his head, right? Created from him? So you'd think I'd know everything about him -- but I still have questions. Like, why would he have picked an airhead like you over someone like Kuchiki Rukia?"

Orihime's eyes went wide, surprise stealing the gasp from her that the pain hadn't managed to steal. "W, what--"

"She's much smarter than you, after all." He cackled a little, becoming louder with that assurance that he'd caught her off-guard. "Smarter and stronger. Now, _she_ wouldn't just lie here helplessly while a Hollow put his hands all over her... Maybe you like it?"

It was instinct to struggle, to reach down and grab his leg and try to shove herself away, rejecting the words as much as his touch -- she couldn't think of anything, couldn't think, her mind blank because if she thought at all she would think, _He's right._

But his body was stronger, firm like steel and unyielding, and he allowed no distance to be put between them. In the next beat, he loosened his grip, still holding her to him but without the brutal force, and his fingers trailed with almost apologetic gentleness over her skin. Orihime made herself quiet, struggling with her breathing again instead of with him. She wouldn't be able to escape if he didn't want her to, and Ichigo needed her to be good, to not cause trouble, so that she could win the Hollow's trust.

But her chest still hurt, inside and out now. As if sensing that thought, the Hollow said with light mockery, "Friends can be so mean sometimes."

Orihime said thinly, "I'm not -- I'm not _not_ your friend. I'm not your enemy." She closed her eyes. "I didn't tell him about you, did I?"

The Hollow was quiet, still toying his fingers over her skin, whimsical patterns on her stomach now. "No, you didn't. Why?"

_Thank god._ That tiny vulnerability, a single curious question that was almost like a weakness, helped her to breathe a little easier. It was working -- maybe. "Ichigo would be upset," Orihime murmured. She'd thought about her answer a great deal. "He'd brood and drive himself crazy, and-- and leave, if he thought he was dangerous. I don't want him to leave."

He laughed, a sharp biting sound like a jackal. "Is that so! You'd rather be with Ichigo than be safe, huh? How _loving_." His voice rose in pitch, high and thin and triumphant.

He believed her. He thought he'd figured her out. If the Hollow escaped Ichigo's control, it would be about as useful as stabbing him with a thumbtack, but Orihime could only think _Oh my god I'm fighting the Hollow and winning._

"I bet you never thought about how much Ichigo would _hate_ himself if I went and killed his little girlfriend," the Hollow cackled. "If he failed to protect someone _again_, just like his mother!"

It stunned her, for a moment, that he _knew_ that -- so few people knew, Orihime could count on her hands -- that maybe he really did know Ichigo deep, below the surface. So she didn't have to work to quell her excitement, and a tremor rose naturally into her voice when she murmured, "I-- I just want to be with him."

"Well, hey, no skin off your back, right?" he purred. "Because maybe I'd rather destroy Rukia than you if I got loose anyway, right?"

This again -- Orihime was no more expecting it than she had been the last time, and it still hurt, made her whole body tense unhappily.

_Why wouldn't he  
Everyone knows they'd be a much better match  
I don't understand why he picked me either_

But the Hollow curled tighter around her, nuzzling her with something odd that might have been reassurance in her Ichigo.

"Don't worry about Rukia," the Hollow whispered into the dip of her throat. "If I ever take control, and I'm hungry, you're the one I would kill."

Orihime shivered, trying not to feel... pleased, or flattered, or relieved. She should be terrified. "Is that -- an apology?" she asked.

The Hollow smiled against her throat, pleased, although he was only sardonic when he observed, "Man, His Majesty sure could've picked a brighter queen." The words were different, and the tone unfamiliar, but Orihime could swear she heard a familiar, fond _You idiot_ when he spoke.

Then, suddenly, he rolled them over, ignoring her startled clutching at him, until she was resting on top of his chest.

"What--?"

"Just go back to sleep," he said, and folded his arms behind his head. "You stayed up a long while the last time I was out. It's annoying."

"I have to make sure you don't do anything terrible," Orihime protested.

The Hollow stared at her fixedly, but Orihime only stared back at him, stubborn. For a moment she thought they would stare one another cross-eyed, locked in a passionate battle of wills, until finally he sighed and pointed out, "You flatter me to think I could do that without waking you up while _you're on top of me_, Your _Highness_."

Oh! That explained that, although now she was a little embarrassed. He definitely wasn't as _nice_ about being smart as Ichigo was.

She resolved to sleep right where she was, so that she would feel every twitch of muscle in his arms or legs if he moved -- but Ichigo had a lot of bones in uncomfortable places, with a lot of bumps that started to make her sore after a few minutes. Orihime thought that she must be _much_ cushier than Ichigo, for him to be able to sleep on her at all. She shifted uncomfortably for a while longer, prompting more staring from the Hollow, and then Orihime finally pushed herself off him and arranged herself on her side next to him.

It felt -- strange, to curl up to his body and tentatively sling an arm around his waist.

_It's just to make sure he stays in place,_ she reminded herself.

The Hollow didn't say anything to stop her; he only sighed with dramatic exasperation and stared up at the ceiling with his blackened-white eyes and pretended not to notice. The seconds went by and nothing happened, and it occurred to Orihime that he seemed to be as nervous under her arm as she had been under his, and she slowly relaxed.

_I suppose he's a little bit nice,_ Orihime thought, _if he likes cuddling._ Of course he must have liked it, or he would've made fun of her for her choice of restraint, or something. And she couldn't imagine that horrible people could enjoy something so sweet and pure and innocent.

And she could afford to be gracious, too. After all, she was outsmarting him, and thinking about it that way made it hard not to snuggle even closer.


End file.
